Innocence Blog

The Senora cooked a delicious meal that night. The three of them sat down together at nine o’clock.

The basket of fresh bread went around the table. The bread in Spain was baked just right. Lethe lingered over the crust in his mouth as if he’d never tasted bread before. Steam rose from the soupy bowl of creamed broccoli. The thick potato-and-egg tortilla shimmered with blotches of oil. The Senora had left open the balcony door and cool air was coming in, mingling with the heat from the oven.

“I’m reading a wonderful book right now. It’s called The Alchemist.” The Senora’s voice boomed across the table. There was a curio cabinet standing behind her that trembled and the little copper plates inside made a tinkering sound.

“A young man goes to seek a buried treasure in Egypt. I would imagine he’s the same age as the two of you–” The Senora spoke with an incredible passion, a passion that came out of nowhere. Her eyes shut tightly and creases formed across her dark forehead. “Have you ever dreamed of making a quest in your life?” She asked with a kind of fierce curiosity.

Lethe felt the force of her enthusiasm. And he thought he understood what she was saying. He liked the idea of a quest, it sounded like a brilliant idea, and he thought he should make one sometime soon. “Este es una aventura con todos, aqui, en Espana,” Lethe uttered to his own astonishment.

The Senora nodded her head in mutual understanding. “Claro que si, hombre. Para tu. Si.”

“Pero–” Having gained this tiny bit of encouragement, Lethe continued to speak Spanish. “La vida is pobre. Demasiado pena. Quiero vivir sin preocupacion. Mis aventuras son puertas, como puertas . . ..”

“Puertas de que?” Donte asked suddenly.

“Puertas de–, no se, no se. Lo siento.”

Nobody knew what he was saying anymore. He peered into his potato omelet, waiting for the moment to pass over.

After that, Lethe watched the Senora and Donte exchanging Spanish sentences effortlessly. He desperately wished he could take part in the discussion they were having. How nice it would be to communicate like that in another language! He envied Donte for his practiced speech, his eloquent manner. Donte was merely an exuberantly cheerful person, not a show-off as Lethe had imagined him. It was wrong of Lethe to judge people so quickly. He told himself he should give Donte another chance. Of course, there was a bit of envy for Donte’s natural charisma, his intelligence. And Donte’s hair bothered Lethe, the way it bounced, but one learned to overlook these things. He decided to give Donte another chance. Perhaps he had false judged him.

“The true Spanish bible!” The Senora exclaimed. They were talking about Don Quixote by Cervantes.

“My favorite part, Chapter 26, I’ve read it hundreds of times, when the Sorrowful Knight kills the puppets because he thinks they’re real people!”

“Master Peter’s Puppet Show. Master Peter’s Puppet Show . . .”

“Don Quixote wants to save the damsel, that’s why he destroys the puppet theater. He’s gone completely mad!”

Donte’s jet-black hair bounced relentlessly but Lethe chose to ignore it.

“Ingenio, ingenio . . . Que linda! Que linda!”

“I can tell you haven’t read it,” the Senora said to Lethe conspiratorially. “Here, use my copy.” She shoved the big book in front of him.

Lethe pushed apart the dry, yellow pages. The little black sketches helped him recall a couple scenes from the book he hadn’t read, only skimmed.

“There’s a bookstore on la calle de Felipe. Go buy yourself a copy in English. Nobody can figure out exactly what the novel is about. They all say it’s about Don Quixote’s idealism. Well, that he’s crazy for seeing giants instead of windmills. But when you really get down to it– Oh, just read the book Lethe, you’ll learn so much . . . ”

She brushed some crumbs into her hand and smiled at her two boarders. “Now it’s time to go to bed.”